


Flexibility

by offensiveagentpie



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: College, First Kiss, M/M, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:12:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8925469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offensiveagentpie/pseuds/offensiveagentpie
Summary: Matt does yoga...Foggy is intrigued, but gets a bit more than he asked for when he gets lessons for himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [significantowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/significantowl/gifts).



> For significantowl who requested some yoga!Matt.
> 
> Happy Holidays! <3 I hope you enjoy it!

At first, Foggy wrote it off as a midterm stress induced hallucination. He’d been staying up late for the last few nights, cramming notes and vocabulary and court cases into his already worn thin brain. Not to mention, he’s been surviving solely on granola bars, the occasional apple, and caffeine. So, needless to say, he kind of blanks when he opens the door to the dorm and is confronted with a front and center view of Matt’s (until now unknown) washboard abs.

“Uh…” he says eloquently. To be fair, he can’t even see Matt’s head with the way he’s bent, contorted so that he’s curved backwards, stomach and muscles, muscles, muscles, pulled tight and on display. Foggy has always suspected that, baggy sweaters, and generally ill-fitting clothes aside, that Matt is leaner than he looks. But he’s kind of guiltily chalked that up to the poor orphan life that Matt has been leading. He had no idea that the dude was ripped.

In front of him, Matt unfurls in a way that can only be described as sinuous. “Hey, Fog, how’d your last test go?”

Foggy’s brain struggles to remember the last 2 hours of his life. Eventually it hacks through the haze of recently memorized historical court case rulings and he manages to mumble out, “Fine, pretty sure I got a ‘B’ at least, but that’s nothing because how can you bend like that?”

Matt sits cross legged on a red mat that Foggy is just now registering has been laid on the floor. He tilts his head in a quizzical manner that always gives Foggy the impression that he’s very closely listening for something that Foggy can’t even begin to hear. His lips quirk up a bit at the corners. “What do you mean?”

“Like that,” Foggy says, voice slightly strangled as he gestures his hands. “I’m gesturing at you in disbelief. I come home and there you are, twisted like some Cirque du Solei performer and also you are secretly _built_ dude! There has got to be a story here!”

Matt laughs. “It’s just yoga, Foggy.”

“Seriously, though, I had no idea. And there’s no way you got that ripped doing yoga.”

“Well, I work out too,” Matt adds, looking slightly suspicious as he does so. “But yeah, yoga. It’s good for you and it helps focus your mind. Not to mention it helps relieve tension. Which,” he pauses to hunch his shoulders over, “I’ve been carrying a lot of recently with midterms and everything.”

Foggy watches as the skin over Matt’s arms tugs tight over even more muscles and suddenly his own body chooses to remind him of every ache and pain it’s feeling. Poor nutrition and habitual bad posture while studying has not made for a pleasant experience this past week. He tries to stretch his own back and ends up tugging something tight in his lower back. He groans, “I feel you there, buddy. I’d do anything to work these kinks out.”

Matt sits up a little straighter, and turns his intense focused expression on and towards Foggy. “I could… that is, if you want, I could show you some basics? That groan sounds like you need it.”

Within an instant, thoughts flood through Foggy’s imagination: Matt doing some more bendy stretches, Matt definitely possibly touching Foggy’s body to make sure he’s doing things right…it’s not an unpleasant idea. It is, however, definitely not an idea that will allow Foggy to keep his relationship with his roommate of a semester and a half strictly platonic.

“I don’t know if that’d be a good idea, man. If I stretched now I’d snap or crumble or shatter or something. I think I’m just going to sleep for a week.”

Matt chuckles, “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, let me know.”

Foggy hums in non-committal acknowledgement and staunchly ignores the way his heart leaps and pounds when Matt bends in half to reach for his ankles, muscles in his toned back curving in a very pleasing manner.

 

**-oOo-**

 

They manage to forget the topic for two days before Foggy makes the mistake of groaning out: “Holy shit, dude, am I stiff. I feel like a grandpa,” as he stands up off his bed after lying twisted and watching Netflix for a few hours.

Matt’s hands still on the book he’s reading. “I can help with that you know, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but stretching it out will help.”

And, because Foggy is weak, and because he really is feeling pretty shitty, he agrees. Matt lays out his yoga mat on the floor and politely waits for Foggy to change into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. “Alright, Matty, pretzel me,” he says lightly, aiming to keep this as humorous as he can.

It works, Matt laughs. “We won’t get into anything too bad today, you’re probably really tight,” Matt says simply as though that sentence couldn’t _possibly_ send Foggy’s mind to very, _very_ , inappropriate places.

“Yeah,” he replies around a gulp. “Full disclosure, I’m pretty flexible for a big guy, but I haven’t properly stretched out since high school softball. I have fallen into the trap of sloth, Matty, pray for me at your next church visit.”

“I will pray for your soul,” Matt says with mock seriousness. “Now, uh…I’m not exactly going to be able to see if you’re doing things right, so I’m going to have to touch you quite a bit, is that all right?”

Foggy’s heart is already pounding. “I kind of figured. It’s not a problem for me as long as it’s not a problem with you.”

“No!” Matt says, almost too quickly. “I mean, no, it’s fine.”

“All right then, let’s get started.”

They start off simply enough. Most of the basic stretches Foggy does remember from his softball days, but after neglecting it for so long, he’s definitely feeling the strain. He does fairly well though, and even though it burns and pulls, it feels good. There’s definitely a release of tension. Even the touching goes well. Matt mostly guides his arms into proper positions or positions him into better posture. It’s not until his hands glide up Foggy’s back to push his weight against him to stretch out his hamstrings that Foggy has a minor crisis. Matt leans close, Foggy can feel his breath against his ear, and the pull in the back of his leg grows stronger.

He gasps as he feels Matt push against him and Matt immediately backs off. “Sorry! I thought you could go a little farther. I didn’t mean to push too far,” he says, face going red.

Foggy sits up straight, “No, no it’s fine, it just was a little fast that’s all.”

“Sorry,” Matt says again. “But uh…that should be good for today. We can cool down and then maybe try again tomorrow…do a little more each day?”

Foggy rolls his head around on his shoulders, heart hammering from a combo of the closeness and the work out. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

**-oOo-**

 

They continue for a few days a week for a month and by the end of it, Foggy is feeling much more limber and just generally better. Except for the fact that his crush on Matt is now reaching critical levels. It’s certainly not helping that Matt’s laughing at all of his jokes as they twist on the floor, or that Matt’s touches have started to linger more…and he doesn’t _think_ he’s imagining that last part, but at the same time, if he is, he doesn’t wanna say anything and ruin it.

So it goes to say that, as Matt’s guiding him through a new position and casually mentions that his left leg should be out farther, he tenses. Because this comment can only mean Matt’s hand gently pushing out as it slowly travels up the inside of his leg. By the time he reaches past his knee, Foggy is shaking.

“Is this too much?” Matt asks. His hand stops on the inside of Foggy’s thigh, warm and lingering.

“The position’s fine,” Foggy strangles out. “But uh, your hand is…”

“Is? Oh! Sorry,” he doesn’t sound sorry at all. Matt goes to pull back and Foggy decides to bite the bullet. 

“I didn’t really mind…it’s just, I can only handle so many distractions when I’m contorted like this.”

There’s a beat of silence before Matt’s hand returns to its previous spot, gently kneading the soft flesh beneath. “Well, we can’t have distractions now, can we.”

Foggy’s pulse skyrockets and he quickly falls out of position, landing with a thump on the floor. “Holy shit, dude!” He rolls over to face Matt, only to be met with a tiny smirk. “You were doing it on purpose!”

Matt holds his hands up in mock surrender. “To be fair, I tried not to make it too obvious.”

Foggy looks at him, dumbfounded. “I’m kind of shocked right now. I thought I was just projecting.”

“Not really,” Matt says, leaning closer. “I couldn’t really help it. You, well, you feel really nice,” he closes the distance, kissing Foggy hot and wet right from the get-go. “And honestly touching you has been driving me crazy.”

It’s like mid-terms all over again, Foggy’s brain just sort of fizzles out for a second. “Feeling is mutual,” he says when Matt finally comes up for air. “Yeah, okay, so I’m gonna be pretty forward here,” he pauses, giggling as Matt continues his kissing over Foggy’s chin and neck, “but I vote we test out my newly regained flexibility somewhere else…like a bed.”

Matt growls out a yes and surges forward to kiss him again. Foggy just falls back on to the yoga mat, giving as good as he’s getting. They never do make it to the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> It feels like grad school has completely fried my 'for fun fiction' writing capabilities, so I'm very sorry for the short length of this. Any mistakes are my own.


End file.
